


Playground Justice

by kittydesade



Category: Human Target (TV 2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittydesade/pseuds/kittydesade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guerrero and Chance take on a small case as a personal favor to Ilsa before relaxing for the holidays. Just a light bit of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playground Justice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misachan/gifts).



Guerrero didn't mind Christmas nearly as much as Chance did. People either killed each other on their own or decided to give things one more try, which meant he was less busy than usual. Everyone seemed to take a break for a little while, no information to be squeezed out of anyone, no one to be blackmailed or robbed, nothing to do. He took the time to catch up on sleep, stretch, relax, read a couple books. Drive out of town and sit on top of his car and have a picnic lunch somewhere and just enjoy the beauty of the natural world.

Chance hated Christmas, and when confronted with someone who enjoyed it, retreated into surliness or work as much as possible, so he wasn't all that surprised when his old friend gave him a call.

"Hey, you up for some light work?"

He rolled his eyes just a little and took another bite of his sandwich; chewing into the phone would register his displeasure. "Sure, just give me a bit to wrap some stuff up. Meet you at the office?"

"Yeah. Got a friend of the boss who's being harassed, maybe blackmailed, she just found out about it. Doesn't sound too complicated."

That was never a good sign. "'kay, I'll be in in an hour, we can discuss it then." He hung up, took a moment to finish his sandwich, then wrapped the whole thing up in the paper bag and tossed it into the trash bag in the car to dispose of later. So much for a quiet Christmas.

\---

"Who's the oohhhh…" Guerrero somehow managed to keep a straight face. This 'friend' of the boss couldn't have been a legal adult, a skinny teenage boy with scraggly black hair and a faded Bosstones t-shirt. One look at him told the older man why he was probably being harassed. Apart from looking a little like the latest target of choice to any average, under-educated high school student or even their parents, he had this attitude of belligerence that wasn't doing him any favors. "Uh-huh."

"Miz Pucci said you could help?" he asked, and made it sound like an insult or at least like he wanted to add a _so what_ to the end of that. Chance looked over at Guerrero and shrugged.

"I think we can. Just, why don't you have a seat and tell us a little bit about the people who are bothering you?"

Guerrero noticed Chance said _people_ and not _kids_. Even though they probably were, and even though bullying teenagers was pretty far out of their purview. Had been for a few decades now.

It kind of explained why Chance called him in on it, though. His friend hadn't had what could be called a normal childhood, and even if Guerrero wasn't the poster boy for being raised with a white picket fence and a sibling or two, he was closer to it than Chance was. He knew how these things went. Not much different from how they went with adults, either.

"It's just a couple guys. They think they're all that because their Dads are these Fortune 500 company owners or something. I think one of them used to be a rail baron…"

And right then, Guerrero thought he knew who the kid was talking about. At least one of the sets of parents, and the kid, too. Nasty piece of work, the whole family. He filed that information away as the kid talked, listening and cross-referencing. Yeah, he knew that school, as soon as Chance managed to get that out of him. And he knew that family, too.

He turned and started out as the kid broke off to stare at him. "Where the hell's he going?"

"Got an idea," he said over his shoulder, and Chance nodded.

"He's going to get started. Don't worry, we'll take care of everything."

\---

Guerrero called to make sure Chance was back, then rolled the guy onto the wheeling cart and took the freight elevator up, whistling. No one was in the office, so he parked the cart by the wall and waited. The man was hogtied, gagged, and hooded; he wasn't going to go anywhere.

Chance came out of the kitchenette after a second with a bowl of noodles in one hand and a stack of what looked like student records under the other arm, looked over and stared at the man on the cart. Then at Guerrero. "What's this?

"I brought you a fruitcake."

His lips twitched. "That doesn't look edible," he pointed out, crossing to the guy and grabbing him by one arm, hauling him across the floor as Guerrero put away the cart.

"It's a fruitcake, it's not supposed to be edible," Guerrero called after him, grinning to himself. Grinning wider when he saw Chance had somehow managed to stuff most of the Christmas decorations into the storage closet by the elevator. Winston should know better by now. "It's just… tenderized." A little roughed up, no major damage.

"Uh-huh." Chance leaned down and shoved the guy experimentally. The prisoner rolled over. There wasn't much he could do, what with being hogtied and all. "I think it's rotten."

"I coulda told you that years ago, dude."

He perched on the edge of a chair, one knee tucked up and the other foot resting easily on the floor. Light, in case Chance needed him, although he didn't think this would be like the last time. For one thing, they were the only two people in the building, and Chance knew how to behave himself around a prisoner. For another thing, this was a corporate executive. He wasn't used to being told no or spoken to harshly, let alone tied, gagged, and shoved in a trunk.

"Do you know what your son's been up to, Mr. Renssaeler? I mean, I know you guys aren't exactly hands on with your parenting, but I'd think even you would have noticed the assault charge that got dropped. Didn't you push to get it dropped?"

Renssaeler tried to say something, but neither Chance nor Guerrero was in a mood to hear it right now. The gag stayed on.

The leg ties came off, though. Just so Chance could get him into a more long-term position without risk of stroke by blood clot or anything. He tried kicking out at them, but Chance stepped over a flailing leg and Guerrero snorted in amusement. "Dude, give it up."

"Now, we're going to sit down and have a nice little chat. And then you're going to sit down and have a nice little chat with your son and his friends. And after that everyone's going to be all civil and polite like good kids, or we're going to have to have another little chat. And that one won't be so nice. Do we have an understanding?"

\---

"I'm not sure what you did, and I'm not sure I want to know," Ilsa told them, later. "But thank you."

Chance shrugged, smiled, looked bashful in a way that raised at least one alarm in the back of Guerrero's mind. He noted it and set it aside, for now. "Just the job, right?" He chuckled a little awkwardly, which Guerrero could sympathize with.

He was just keeping his usual blank face, waiting for her to say something else before going and raiding the liquor cabinet for his one-for-the-road. "I guess everything turned out all right."

"To everyone's satisfaction. Except maybe the Renssaelers and Mortimers." But Ilsa didn't look too unhappy about that. Maybe she was getting used to the way they worked. Be good to be able to work without having to wonder whether or not she was going to insist on everything being according to her own code of ethics.

"They'll live," Guerrero said, taking a small drink and letting the flavor settle in his mouth.

Chance gave him a look that suggested he knew what Guerrero was thinking. It was more than they could say about a lot of people who had gotten on their bad side. Then again, it would have been overkill, no pun intended, for a couple of family bullies who had never actually put anyone in the hospital. Yet. Even with dropped charges, it had been about to escalate.

"How's the kid?"

"Oh, he's all right. He's back at school…" and whatever the rest of that was, Guerrero didn't care to hear it. He finished his drink and set it down, waving at Chance as he headed towards the elevator and leaving them to talk or flirt or whatever it was they were doing. Avoiding Christmas together, most likely. He could accept that, especially from Chance, as long as it didn't head towards flirting with the boss. That never ended well.

Himself, he was going to go to church. There was a really good choral group he'd heard about coming to sing later that day, be just the thing to relax before he disappeared till the New Year.


End file.
